Attendance Roll

The Journal Of Movement Of The World

The More & The Less You Mean To Me

Wilting. Wilting. I have lost all feeling.
I sit in the shadows; the shadows become me
The night rain kisses the world; the rain becomes me
I awake to a red dawn; I have lost all feeling.
I write his name at the top of a letter; the ink is running
It etches dark rivulets down the paper- the stain of gangrene.
Gangrene becomes me. I am wilting.

I pick up the phone and I put it down again- the phone is mocking.
I write a letter and then I tear it up- the words are balking
down the back of my throat, to join all the other unwhispered “I love you”s
Black with gangrene
They are wilting
Into words I don’t mean.
Wilting. I have lost all feeling.
I have lost everything.